Insignificant Moments
by Her Madjesty
Summary: A variety of occurrences that happen every day, and yet somehow go unnoticed. A different character in every chapter: If you have a request, shoot me a message. Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Reviews are welcomed
1. Chapter 1

All she had been doing was sorting papers. It was a simple task, menial, not worth much, if any of her attention.

And then damn things had to go and give her a paper cut.

Henry laughed up and down the Sheriff's office as his mother tried to find a band-aid, swearing to high heaven and generally making him laugh even harder. The Sheriff glared at him as she sucked her injured digit, making her look like a very hurt puppy, causing him laugh all the more.

If anyone in town—no, if Regina could see her in a moment like this, coddling an injured finger, no one would ever take her seriously again.

The savior of Fairytale World, defeated by a mere paper cut.

But here she was, injured but whole, in the only place that felt like home.

With her son.

Happy.

Paper cuts and all.


	2. Chapter 2

Ruby knew that Mr. Gold took only two packets of sugar with his coffee.

She knew the Henry, like his mother, and Mary Margret, liked his hot cocoa with a sprinkling of cinnamon on the mountain of whip cream.

She knew that whenever Kathryn and David came in together, they would order a piece of cherry pie, a la mode, a de-caffeinated tea for her and a Mountain Dew for him. Alone, David would settle for a coffee and Kathryn enjoyed peppermint hot chocolate, with a little dash of something extra if she was filling particularly spunky.

Ruby was aware of all the little insignificant habits of the inhabitants of Storybrook. She knew Leroy would sneak in and read behind is glass of gin, or smile goofily when the nun Astrid walked in with some of her sisters. She knew that Mary Margret and David used the inn as a place to meet and make googily eyes at each other, and that Emma would stop in after making her rounds in order to chat with her one time secretary/deputy. Ruby knew who tipped well and who didn't, who would always be the worst to clean up after, and when to begin preparing the Mayor's lunch on Mondays and Fridays.

Everyone in the town knew her, and she knew everyone. Ruby was a people watcher at heart, and the people of Storybrook were among the most interesting people to watch.

It never bored her, watching them go about their lives. It just let her imagine the adventures that she may on day embark on as she grew up.

But for now, Archie was waiting at the counter for his caffeine packed espresso, and goodness knows she wouldn't keep a man like that waiting for long.


	3. Chapter 3

Pongo was a peculiar pooch; well mannered, tidy, and punctual.

Everyday at 4:15pm, he would be at the door, waiting for his master Archie to come home and take him on his daily walk. Pongo would take his master to their regular places, the ones that were his favorite places to be: his favorite tree outside of the Sheriff's office, the grassy lanes that ran parallel to the main road, and the bushes outside of Granny's.

Archie sometimes wondered if the dog was simply antagonizing him, dragging him pass Ruby's workplace everyday. But he dismissed the thought and carried on, deciding no matter how intelligent Pongo seemed, he wasn't doing it on purpose.

But Pongo, of course, knew otherwise.

He knew his master pined after the wolf-girl. Pongo liked her too; she smelled very, very good, and always gave him treats when his master went in to talk to her. So Pongo remained consistent, and led his master to the front door of the diner on a daily basis.

Some days his master would return rather quickly, smelling of nervous energy and drinking a nasty smelling drink out of a little paper cup. Pongo would linger outside the diner and whine for Ruby on those days, until she finally came out and gave him his treat. His master would be thoroughly embarrassed by that point and would talk to the wolf-girl for a minute or so before dragging Pongo down the street towards their apartment.

Other days, his master lingered inside the diner, talking to the wolf-girl from across the counter. Pongo would curl up in the bushes and nap, waiting for his master to finish the breeding rituals Pongo was familiar with. His master would always return happier than when he had left, and Pongo would trot obediently down the street, tail wagging at the speed of joy.

Archie doubted his true intelligence, but the pooch knew exactly what he was doing.

The treats he got were just a bonus.


	4. Chapter 4

David was used to coming to Mary Margret's apartment at odd hours of the night.

But instead of the usual warm greeting he expected when he knocked on her front door, he found himself being tugged roughly into the apartment and hurried over to the couch, a visibly frustrated Mary Margret dragging him after her. The glowing TV providing the only source of light in the house.

"Look at this!" Mary Margret pointed furiously at the TV screen. David did as his lover told him and turned to the TV, just in time to watch Anakin Skywalker pit himself against alien creatures from a distant planet in order to rescue his mentor and Padmi, his love interest.

"What about it?" David asked, settling back into the couch. "He looks like a pretty decent guy." Mary M blanched at him and mock-smacked him on the arm before snuggling up beside him.

"I _hate_ Anakin!" she said, balling her tiny white hands into fists. "He whines and complains and then _oh! _Everyone's supposed to love him just because he's the _chosen one_." She placed air quotes around 'chosen one', which struck David as very cute, despite her furious expression. "Even now, in the middle of a _fight_, he has to argue with Obi Wan like a _fool_! Oh!" she pounded her fist against the arm of the couch, and David burst into laughter.

"I think you're getting a little too emotionally involved in a movie, love." He told her, tapping her nose with his finger. "He's a good guy in the end, right?"

Mary M glowered at her boyfriend, shaking her head in exasperation. "No, David, he's not. He's _Darth Vader_ at the end of the movies."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at her incompetent boyfriend, content to sit in his arms as they sat and watched _The Clone Wars _on her patchwork couch, regardless of Anakin's antics on screen.

She sincerely hoped that her Prince Charming would be more competent than that silly future Sith Lord was.

_A/N Hello there readers. From this point on I'm going to need prompts, because I'm running out of situations to put our poor Storybook characters through. Go ahead and request a character or a storyline in a review or a private message, and I will do my best to fill it. With the summer months rolling around I won't be writing as often, but I will try and update as often as I can. I greatly appreciate all of you who enjoy my little stories; you motivate me to write even when I should be doing more important things. Like working. Or eating._

_Affectionately,  
~Ches  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Snow sat in front of her over-sized mirror, miserably tugging on the ends of her cropped hair. She couldn't figure out what atrocity had driven her to cut it, whether it had been part of Regina's curse or her counterpart's, Mary Margret's, choice.

The mirror reflected her moping face as she pulled at it in a childish attempt to make it long again.

"Snow?" The princess started, turning around to her husband leaning on the doorframe of her bedroom. "Hey there, Charming." Her voice was too soft to hide the dismay she felt.

Charming strolled over to her side and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her small shoulders as they swayed together in front of the mirror. "Now what ever could be the matter, my dear?" he whispered in her ear, and she smiled, nuzzling the rough stubble on his chin.

"It's nothing important, Charming." She smiled sadly, fingers still playing with the fraying ends of her hair. "I just can't believe my hair. It's so—" she paused, red mouth frowning. "Short."

Her husband chuckled behind her, and she turned to face him.

"What?" The glare she sent him could've killed thousands, but Charming continued to chuckle. His grip tightened around her and he swung her onto the bed. Snow 'eep'ed in surprise, but cuddled happily onto her husband's lap. The deadly glower remained firmly on her face, but it was dampened by the love that shown in the princess's eyes.

"Snow," Charming laughed into his wife's hair. "It doesn't matter what your hair looks like, whether it's short or long." His sharp teeth nipped her ear and she growled playfully, crossing her arms and acting gruff. "I will love you no matter what it's like." He kissed her cheek and her defenses crumbled.

"What more could a girl ask for?" She replied, a coy smile working its way onto her face.

Charming laughed. "And anyway," he continued, lying down on the bed to look up at his princess. "Your hair will grow back. You have nothing to fear." Snow's smile grew and she bent down to kiss her husband's grinning lips.

What began as a few minute visit was about to turn into a long, long night.

XXX

Emma and Henry came into the apartment later that night, with Henry was abuzz with excitement and Emma was still in shock. The pressures of the day were getting to the sheriff, and she sat down, exhausted, at the kitchen table.

Above everything, she was overjoyed to have Henry back.

But now, it seemed that bringing him back to Mary Margret's—Snow White's apartment, rather, was a bad idea.

At least, it had seemed like a good idea, up until she saw David's—er, Charming's truck outside and the infamous closed bedroom door.

Emma didn't need her skills as a sheriff to figure out what was going on. As quickly as she could she ushered Henry back out of the apartment, making an excuse about wanting to go and visit Ruby—Red, at the diner.

But her son was a smart one, and the walls of the apartment were paper thin. So when Snow White cried out into the night, he turned to Emma with a sly grin on his face.

"It seems like Grandma and Grandpa are having a nice family reunion, aye, Emma." His mother groaned and drug him down the stairs as he laughed hysterically.

Emma decided that she would meet her parents in the morning, preferably long after they had finished getting reacquainted with each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Regina stalked the aisles of the local grocery store, her trademark glower marring her striking face. She huffed furiously, fingers flexing with the urge to strangle something, or someone, for that matter. The _incompetent _staff she had employed here where _useless _creatures, all of them.

All she was looking for was some _sugar_, for goodness sake, it couldn't be _this hard _to find!

The Evil Queen should _not_ have to get her own groceries, she decided as she stormed down another unyielding aisle. No wonder this was the world the curse had chosen to punish the fairytale creatures with; it was undeniably the most horrid world there was.

Regina had already gathered everything else she needed: Milk, vanilla, chocolate powder and cinnamon for Henry, and couple of kitchen knives to add to her collection. The only reason she had bothered to come to the grocery store today was because Henry's tenth birthday was approaching, and apparently, a _good_ mother would make him a cake.

Heaven forbid she make him a cake without sugar. The boy would have a fit and refuse to speak to her ever again.

"May I help you?" the pleasant voice rang hesitantly down the aisle. The Queen spun, her face black with irritation. "No, thank you." She replied coldly, leaving the girl who used to be Briar Rose quaking in the path of her rage. "The rest of the staff has already proven their inability to serve. There is no need for you to provide me more evidence of that."

She would find her own sugar, dammit. And if the fairytale creatures she had imprisoned her ever returned to the kingdoms from which they came, she would be sure to place an entire platoon of her guards in charge of getting her the groceries she needed everyday.

She would _never _be doing this again.

Until Henry ran out of Poptarts, that is. At least she knew where those were.


	7. Chapter 7

The persistent meowing leaking out of Regina's office was starting to become a nuisance. The Mayor growled and rubbed her temples in frustration as she struggled to concentrate on her latest project: Generally making Emma Swan's life as miserable as possible in this ridiculous, sleepy little town.

This obnoxious feline, however, was serving only to increase her agitation.

"Sydney!" she shrieked down the fall, her voice ringing with impatience. The attentive little man came rushing down the hall faster than she had ever seen him move, a particularly eager look set on his face.

"What can I do you for, Madam Mayor?" he asked, a rather giddy lilt to his voice. She glowered at him, crystalline eyes narrowing with annoyance.

"I do believe your cat has gotten out of your office again, Sydney." She purred, ice crackling in her voice. "And has decided to instead take up residence in _mine_."

Sidney's face paled. "My little joy?" he asked, voice quivering. Regina rolled her eyes. "Apparently so. Have you not heard the insistent _noise_ coming from my office today, Sydney? My, what little attention you pay to the things you care about." She hissed out the final words and watch the man pale, then flush with embarrassment.

Sydney coughed and examined the floor for a moment before rushing awkwardly into the Mayor's office. He clasped his hands together as he frantically searched the corners of the room.

"Here kitty, kitty!" He cooed. "Here Regina!"

The Mayor started. She slowly turned and held the man's timid gaze. "_Excuse me?_" her voice quivered as she attempted to control her ever-growing anger.

Sydney gazed back at her and seemed surprised to see the object of his adoration so thoroughly distressed.

"My cat, Madam Mayor." His cheeks were tinted the palest shade of pink. "I named her Regina, after you."

Words refused to come from the Mayor's lips as he returned to his search. Glass turned and simply shrugged at her hapless expression before continuing his rampage through her office. Cries of "Here Regina, my queen!" made themselves heard to all who passed in front of the Mayor's door, causing her own complexion to turn a particular shade of purple.

Suddenly, a gray and black ball of fur skirted across the Mayor's legs, and she let out a shriek of surprise. "Regina!" Sidney's head shot up from beneath her desk. Both the Mayor and the cat turned to look at him.

Glass cried out with joy and scooped up his fluffy feline to cuddle her in his arms.

"My silly queen, don't ever leave daddy's office again." He crooned, caressing the creature's head like a favorite child. The feline struggled in his grasp, annoyance clear on her little face. The Mayor blanched as Glass continued to pour affection onto the clearly uninterested creature.

"Please remove yourself from my office, Sidney." She told him, annoyance and exhaustion threaded neatly in her voice. He looked up from his kitten, something akin to worship in his eyes.

"Absolutely, Madam Mayor." He gave a short little bow before turning for the door. "Thank you so much for helping me find Regina!"

The Mayor scoffed and made her way back into her office. A moment later, she appeared back in the doorway. "Actually, Sidney, wait."

Sidney froze mid-step and turned, hope making his eyes bright with excitement. "Yes, Madam Mayor?"

The woman moved closer to the startled man and peered down at his charcoal and coal kitten. The feline stared back at her, intelligent orange eyes sparkling, and let out a single 'mrow!' of annoyance.

The Mayor scratched the little kitten behind its ears before straightening to meet Glass's eye. He was breathing rather rapidly, she noticed, either from being so close to her or from the pursuit of his feline.

"Such an adorable creature." The Mayor purred, watching Glass positively melt beneath the sound. "Do keep her safe, Sidney."

"Of course, Madam Mayor." He replied eagerly. "She is the second most important creature in my life, you know." He stared meaningfully at her before exiting her office.

Regina collapsed into her leather bound chair and cradled her head in her hands, feeling another headache coming to plague her. Glass's obsession with her had proven useful in the past, but _this_. Had he really named a _cat_ after her?

That was disturbing, even to her.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Let me just take a minute to credit all the prompts that I forgot the credit in my other chapters...I'm such a dork, I'm so sorry I didn't do this sooner!_

GabyBlondie for her Mr. Gold prompt (Very amusing to go about writing this)  
_Marquesa de Santos for the Glass/Regina prompt (it's not exactly what I had planned for the story, it just kinda arrived in my head and wouldn't leave me alone)_  
_LTS for her Snowing Prompt (very fun to write!)_

_More to come as I get back in the cycle of life, love, and fanfiction. Thanks for all the support!  
_

_~Ches  
_

It was days like these that reminded Mr. Gold why he tried to avoid society.

He dragged himself into Granny's diner, drenched by the sprinkle-turned-downpour that had swept into town. Business had suffered today, leaving him alone in his shop with not a thing to do. As the weather grew worse, so did his mood, and his irritation peaked when he discovered that he had left his carefully made lunch at home.

Naturally, he was wearing a look as black as thunder as he sat in the back corner of the diner, avoiding human contact like the plague.

"Hiya, Mr. Gold!" The bouncy little boy ran up to the older man with a wide toothed grin on his face, completely ignorant of the soggy man's agitation. Mr. Gold glared down at him, malevolence not even fazing the boy's grin. "Hello there, Henry." His voice slid out in a low rumble.

The 4 year old's smile could've powered a city, it shown so brightly. Shyly he sidled his way up next to the older man and set his hot cocoa next to the half empty cup of coffee.

"Mr. Gold," Wide blue eyes peered up at the older man. "I have a question."

"Ask away, dearie." Gold sipped his coffee, impatience nagging at the far corner of his mind. This is not what he wanted to deal with today.

Henry crinkled his nose. "Why do you call everyone 'dearie'?"

Gold paused mid sip and turned to face the boy. Henry's eyes were wide as he stared back, eagerly awaiting his answer.

A pregnant silence filled the diner.

"Well," the shock and strangeness of the question left Gold speechless for a few moments. "I don't particularly know, Henry. It's just—I've always called people that." Henry giggled as the older man ran his fingers through his hair, looking a little disturbed by his inability to answer.

"I think it's funny." The four year old grinned at him again before waving good bye and exiting the booth. Gold watched him leave to rejoin a group of boys outside the dinner, all huddled under a large umbrella. Henry beamed excitedly as two of them presented him with dollar bills as they walked off together.

Gold huffed with annoyance, but a corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. Bae would've loved those boys; they would've gotten on splendidly.

He finished off his coffee with a flourish and left the empty mug and a tip on the worn old table, leaning heavily on his cane as he exited the shop and entered back into the pouring rain.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Gold!" Little Ruby called from behind the counter.

"And to you, dear—Miss Ruby." Gold stuttered for a moment, and then cursed his own foolishness.

_Stupid boy._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N A loose, humorous look at Emma's journey through Tallahassee. Not all inclusive. Clearly. Because writing a fic to explain everything that I loved about that episode would take years._

_I hate the hiatus  
_

__XXX

Emma's brain was already at conflict the minute she set eyes on the so-called blacksmith.

"Oh my god, he's got to be a sociopath."

"Wait, wait, wait, you might be wrong, that may be an exaggeration. He might not be—"

"Oh god no, I was wrong. He's utterly bonkers."

All of this occurred in a matter of seconds after Emma first encountered the infamous Captain Hook.

Of course, the rest of the time proceeded _so wonderfully,_ while he flirted with the princess, _her mother_, and generally caused a ripple of confusion and plain old weirdness through their unlikely little group.

And then, the kicker: She and he, together, on the beanstalk, _and god forbid he ever shut his mouth_—obnoxious ass. He was charming, in a way, but in that nauseas sort of way that made Emma's stomach turn in unpleasant circles. He reminded her of how Ruby had acted before she was, you know, Little Red Riding Hood.

Still, he was a welcome distraction from the completely insane situation they were in. Yes, he was a nuisance, but a welcomed one, she guessed. He could've been worse.

Wait, no. Looking back now, no one could've been much worse.

Because somewhere in the flirting, the uncomfortable, lingering looks and the silent, tense moments, she acclimated to him. She started to trust him.

With her safety, that is. Nothing more.

After that, of course, she couldn't let him come with the rest of them, and why she left him up there on that blasted beanstalk in the middle of nowhere. She certainly couldn't have someone like him tramping around with their fragile little group; No, someone as—dysfunctional, for a lack of a better term—someone as dysfunctional as him would only cause added tension to the already stifling air in the group of princesses.

She left him up there because she trusted him. Because in about 10 hours, he had gotten a little too close to the truth about her than she really wanted anyone to be. But for now, she'll keep telling herself that it was for the good of the group.

He's untrustworthy, and most of all, unwanted.

Of course.

That's what it is.

Damn him and his handsome face to the deepest rings of hell.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N Wrote this a long time back, it's complete and utter silliness. Enjoy~!_

It took more than a few things to scare Widow Lucas. The woman had faced down ruthless debt collectors, shady reporters, potentially psychotic mayors, and her own granddaughter; there were few things that surprised her anymore.

But of course, fate delivers our worst fears to us in the most unsuspected packages. So of course, sweet Mary Margret to take it upon herself to terrify the old woman.

Ms. Lucas would curse this day for the rest of her life.

It all started with a fundraiser the local school decided to put on for the animal shelter in town where Mary Margret's part-time boyfriend volunteered. The love-struck teacher decided to throw all her heart and soul into the fundraiser, pushing students to give all they had and a little extra in order to make the shelter as comfy as possibly for the wee little critters that lived there.

Naturally, Ruby adored anything with four legs and a tail, so she was soon wrapped up in the excitement of the fundraiser, which then quickly spread across the entire town. Naturally this soon involved Ms. Lucas, because anything her granddaughter was involved in required Ms. Lucas's upmost attention. That, and apparently the diner was the perfect place for fundraiser planning parties between Mary Margret and her friends.

That was where the trouble began.

Widow Lucas had been listening in to the conversation between her granddaughter and the school teacher one day during one of their 'meetings', watching them chat away about whatever nonsense, when Mary Margret had called her over. Unashamed of being caught eavesdropping on the pair, Ms. Lucas had marched over to the girls and asked what they required. Mary Margret gave no details, only said that she needed the older woman's help with an upcoming event.

For a woman who faced down enemies like Regina without blinking an eye, she should have seen a trick when it presented itself. But this was for a good cause, she reasoned, and helped her keep an eye on Ruby. So the woman found herself agreeing to help the girls with whatever project it was they were working on.

The next thing she knew, she was on a podium alongside her granddaughter and the pixie-cut teacher making the newest fundraiser announcement to the student body.

"You have all done an amazing job raising money to help the animals at Storybrooke's Humane Society." Mary Margret smiled sweetly, and the audience of children applauded. "But we have one more opportunity for you to raise money, and it comes with a special surprise reward!"

The children roared with delight, and Ms. Lucas felt the pit of her stomach start to tingle with despair.

"If our school manages to raise over 1,000 dollars for the humane society," Mary Margret paused and grinned at the elderly woman beside her. "Miss Ruby Lucas will push a whipped cream pie into Granny's face!"

The whoops of delight echoed across the room, and Ms. Lucas felt herself sink into a deep hole of regret. Mary Margret, so sweet and innocent, had successfully fooled her into making a complete joke of herself.

One week later, Granny silently cursed the petite teacher and her granddaughter as the approached her, pie in hand. Ruby slowly and dramatically raised the pie to her grandmother's face and smashed it in, leaving the older woman covered with cream and pie crust.

The children laughed with delight, and Ms. Lucas allowed them all a small smile before lifting her granddaughter into a tight hug, smearing the whipped cream all over her shirt and hair. Ruby screamed as her grandmother set her down, and Ms. Lucas cackled as she began to chase after Mary Margret.

In the long run, it had been worth it, Ms. Lucas saw. From that point on, she, Ruby, and Mary Margret always shared a special bond over a slice of pie at Ms. Lucas's diner.

Not that the incident would ever be forgotten, of course.


	11. Chapter 11

The night was going to turn tedious, Mary Margret could sense it. Before her sat her classes' latest math exams, all neatly in a nice little stack.

Completely ungraded.

The woman sighed and uncapped her little red pen, mentally preparing herself for the long night ahead. "You can do this." She whispered, and flipped over the first test, peering at the answers that the first child had written.

Oh goodness, she sighed and crumpled backwards into her desk chair. There was no way she was getting this done tonight.

And so the battle continued. She would grade part of a paper, get up, stretch, make herself a cup of cocoa, come back, and finish the exam. Onto the next one, where she would get a quarter of the way through and then find herself enraptured with the show that was being advertised on the television (which she didn't remember turning on). Distractions presented themselves to her in all forms, and she was willing to seize them all.

The clock in her flat struck 10pm, and Mary Margret collapsed onto the remaining piles of papers, spent. She loved her kids, she really did. They were sweet as sugar and spicy when they wanted to be, but she wouldn't trade them for any other class in the school.

But they were killing her.

She had just finished teaching them their multiplication tables, and this test was meant to see exactly how well they had learned them. Clearly, _clearly_ they had not been listening to her while she was showing them what to do; otherwise the tests would be a little more, well, _positive_ to grade.

It was midnight when she appeared at the door of Granny's dinner. Ruby came running and opened the door to her friend, who collapsed in her arms.

"What happened to you?" Ruby asked, staring down at the petite teacher. "Did you get in a fight with an ink pen?" "Not even close." Mary Margret moaned. "But even if I had, isn't it clear that the ink pen won?"

Ruby let out a little chuckle and guided her friend inside, setting her down at the counter and resurrecting some of Granny's pumpkin pie. Mary Margret blazed her way through her piece, piling it high with whipped cream.

"So what's the matter this time?" Ruby asked, a teasing tone entering her voice. "Any long lost lovers or half written novels I should know about?"

Mary Margret looked up at her, mouth covered in whipped cream and little crumbs of crust. "Not anything _nearly _that interesting." She grumbled through a mouthful of pie. "I just finished grading my kids' math exams over multiplication." Mary Margret swallowed her mouthful and looked the waitress meaningfully in the eye.

"Henry Mills _failed, _Ruby. _Regina is going to kill me._"

_A/N And this, my dear readers, is Mary Margret's version of the end of the world._


	12. Chapter 12

Archie smiled as he stared at the master piece sitting inside his garage. The creation before him was nothing short of a beauty, a perfect utilization of heaven and earth.

The 1948 Barchetta before him simply gleamed.

No one in town knew his little secret, save Mister Gold, who had proctored the car for him. His work bench was prepared, tools aligned and ready for use.

Ever since he was young, Archie had dreamed of owning a car such as this. Others would call it outdated, yes, and still others wouldn't believe that the reserved psychologist would own such a flamboyant and powerful looking muscle car, but Archie relished the rebellion in his own heart.

No one really knew how proficient Archie was with tools, save the rare few who saw him use them. The man prided himself in his secret craft, and now lay in wait, ready to repair this broken beauty to its former glory.

He quiet praised whatever gods existed in the world before entering his garage with a look of utter reverence on his face, and closed the door mysteriously behind him.

It was time to get to work.


	13. Chapter 13

"Rum, I don't think I can do this." Belle whimpered, staring at him wide-eyed.

Rumpelstiltskin gazed at her lovingly, reassuring her with his gaze. "Belle, dearie, I hate to inform you, but the car's not even on yet."

The two of them say in Mr. Gold's driveway in his 1972 Corvette Stingray, with Belle sitting tensely behind the wheel. Mr. Gold had cautiously encouraged her to start learning how to operate one, seeing as how she was going to be living on her own, and she had begged him to teach her. Now, it seemed as though she was seriously rethinking her decision.

"Which one is the gas pedal again?" She asked, fear writing lines across her pretty young face.

Mr. Gold nearly laughed at the child-like expression on her face, but resisted the temptation. "The one on your right, dearie." He told her patiently, indicating with his cane. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe, no matter what."

Some of the fear drained out of Belle's eyes, and she managed a shaky smile in his direction before returning her attention to the beast before her. Slowly, carefully, she turned the key into the 'on' position and squeaked when she heard the engine roar to life.

"Very good." Mr. Gold told her softly, trying his best to keep her from panicking. "Now, you see this lever here?" he indicated the shift stick. "Move it so it lines up with the little 'R'." Belle silently did as he said, and the car instantly started to roll backwards.

"Foot on the break, foot on the break." Rumpelstiltskin muttered hurriedly as Belle scrambled to find the right pedal to push. Her blue eyes were bright with panic, he could see, and she looked at him through a veil of fear.

"Are you absolutely sure I should be doing this?" she managed, her breathing rough. Gold leaned across the seat and kissed her on the cheek, feeling her skin flush beneath his touch. "Absolutely." He whispered. "You're the bravest person I know, Belle. Don't let this little dragon scare you."

The woman smiled at him from the driver's seat, some confidence returning to her eyes. Carefully, she eased her foot off the break, feeling the car start to roll backwards again. "Yes, very good." Mr. Gold turned to watch as they approached the end of his drive. "You're doing wonderfully, Belle." Her hands shook on the wheel, but she smiled at him none the less.

"Put your foot on the break, dearie." He said after a moment. She did as she was told, and the little car came to a stop perfectly at the end of the driveway. Rumpelstiltskin, Mr. Gold, turned to look at the girl with the utmost affection in his gaze, along with something that looked distinctly like amusement.

"Congratulations, dearie, you made it to the end of the drive. Now the real fun begins."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N This is an older prompt that I struggled with for a while, and now that I've got it completed, I really hope y'all enjoy it._

"I bet you're all wondering why I gathered you here today." August W. Booth lay in wait in his forgotten old den, lacing and unlacing his fingers before an array of inanimate, unusual objects.

He stood from his rickety old chair and began to pace. Before him, on a wooden desk, lay a variety of mysterious items: a map, old parchment with a dagger traced upon it, a fork, lasagna so graciously bought from Granny's, and an old baby picture of Emma Swan, cut from the newspaper article he had found not so long ago.

"You see, my dear friends." He spoke to the objects, oblivious of the strange airs he was putting on. "We have a mission. I," and at this, he thrust his right leg onto the table before him. "Am turning back into wood."

"Normally," he continued. "A man does not complain when he becomes wooden. This, however, is an entirely different circumstance." He slammed his fist down on the desk, a feverish light in his eyes.

"I must do the impossible, you see." He went on, resuming his pacing, a noticeable limp in his step. "I must trick Rumpelstiltskin into giving me the thing that is, by far, the most important thing to him."

"I must masquerade," a dramatic flourish filled the air. "As his long lost son."

"But how do you know of such a son?" his voice went high, a poor imitation of Emma's when she was curious. "How ever will you succeed?"

"I lie by nature." His voice was gruff once more, and he spun, victory written across his features. "No one in the land had ever outwitted me! I am Pinocchio!"

August collapsed into his chair once again and reached for the beer bottle that had been inconspicuously located beneath the desk. Nearly seven others littered the floor beside that one.

It was a miracle the wooden man was still standing.

August nursed the beer bottle lovingly before throwing it amongst the rest and moving to rearrange the items on the desk before him.

"This is probably one of the stupidest things I have ever done." He declared, flinging the newspaper article to the floor.

"But it should be fun."


	15. Chapter 15

The room was brimming with beauty products when Henry burst in. White powders and a variety of smells assaulted his nose, and he cringed at the sight before him.

"Mom?" he called into the din. What sounded like crooning oldies echoed from the bathroom, and he swore he heard him mother, _the Evil Queen incarnate_, singing along.

"What are you doing?" he wandered curiously into the bathroom.

Regina Mills sat on the edge of her bathtub, fuzzy robe and facial mask in place, precariously teetering over an emptying pool of water as she painted her toe nails.

It was a delightful shade of pink, really, but it was enough to shock the poor male in the room.

"Henry!" The woman proclaimed, standing immediately and moving the nail polish out of sight. "Haven't I taught you to knock?"

The boy bowed his head, trying to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Mom." He said. "I was just surprised to find you in here." Then, not so subtly, he tried to peer around his mom.

"What color was that nail polish anyway?"

Regina immediately shooed him out of the room, making sure to lock the door behind her and encouraging the boy to go downstairs and watch TV, like she knew he really wanted to do.

A slight blush rose to her pale cheeks as she reopened the polish, dipping the brush in to the so adequately named "Snow White's Perfect Pink" paint that Graham had so recently compliment upon seeing.

The irony was not lost on her, but, in a moment like this, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She looked amazing in this color.


	16. Chapter 16

Graham walked awkwardly into the diner, looking particularly bare without his trademark leather jacket. Ruby waved to him as he entered, and he waved back before ducking into his favorite booth. He bunkered down with a menu and waited for the girl to come over, a barely contained grin etching onto his face.

"What can I get for you today, Sheriff?" Ruby was there in an instant, cheerful as always, and Graham felt his face twitch with amusement.

"A coffee, black, if you please." He told her, not raising his eyes from the table.

She looked down at him curiously before pulling herself into the booth.

"What's got you all strange and silent, Sheriff?" she asked teasingly, offering him a smile. He returned it, trying to shrug off the mood as lightly as he could, but didn't answer.

"Now come on." Ruby was smiling wider, genuine curiosity filtered in to her voice. "What's the matter?"

Graham hesitated for a moment, but then, he broke.

"It's my jacket." He proclaimed, running a hand through his hair vigorously and chuckling.

"You know my new deputy, Emma, yes?" he looked up at Ruby, who nodded with recognition. "Well," and he laughed again. "She spilled pasta sauce on my jacket last night and, well, she took it to go get it cleaned as an apology."

"Needless to say," he told the waitress while moving to shuffle through his satchel. "It didn't go as well as I expected." Ruby's laughter erupted through the restaurant as the Sheriff pulled out what appeared to be a child's jacket from his satchel.

"I couldn't blame the poor girl, she's already been through so much." Graham said, smiling wider as Ruby continued to laugh. "But really, she can't do laundry to save her life."

Ruby snorted once or twice and moved to stand, and patted the Sheriff on the shoulder. "She's already promised to buy me a new one anyhow." The Sheriff told her. "I almost feel bad about it."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Ruby told him, still giggling a little. "She means well, but she's a little coarse when it comes to this." She giggled again and started to walk away.

"But I do have one more question, if you don't mind, Sheriff." She turned around, and Graham saw a bright gleam in her eye.

"Shoot."

"Well, I figure there isn't any old spaghetti sauce lying around the Sheriff's office." Ruby said, winking coyly. "Were you on a date, old man?"

Graham blanched, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. "What? I, well, uhm…Weren't you suppose to be getting my coffee, young lady?" he asked her sternly, trying to cover up his blundering.

Ruby just laughed and walked away, nearly skipping through the diner, her mood bolstered for the rest of the morning.


	17. Chapter 17

Jefferson lounged precariously on the stair rail, leaning down to view the glorious display before him. Strewn throughout his house, per usual, were the remnants of fabric and buttons galore; ribbons strung high from every rafter and over every surface. It was a land of beauty and merriment, all wrapped in a perfect bow.

His fingers ran across the thin strings of wire, humming chords that made no sense save to him. The creature he cradled in his arms held no meaning to any outside of the room made of madness; it was his and his alone. In the rare moments he was not spending trying to _desperately _to get back to his daughter—

He winces, and the music he thought he heard in his head squealed to a stop.

That train of thought would bring no good will. He closed his eyes tightly against the oncoming storm, trying to scurry out of sight before his mind saw fit to torment him again.

His fingers went to pluck at the strings again, moving softly and creating vibrating beauties out of nothings. The thimble on his thumb did nothing to disturb the rhythms he worked out in his own head.

_Mary Margret, lost in a world, made of her own creation  
David Nolan, caught in the traps the curse has so placed him  
The fairies all torn from their wings with no care  
And the Hatter abandoned with no one to save him_

His mouth ran before his mind, fingers running across chords like they belonged there.

_What can we do?  
What can be done?  
Lost in this world  
Like a mother without a son_

_Running from darkness  
Though it's too late to hide  
While the princess runs free  
Life long lost no longer in mind_

He stumbled and swam through the words, ignoring the trippings in favor of the flourishes as he ravished the guitar, running falls and lifts like a god of music wrapped in layers of madness and string.

And suddenly, a knock on the door. Jefferson fell from his revelry, tumbling off the stair rail, the instrument not far behind. It landed on the floor with a clatter, wood splintering in a thousand directions. Jefferson winced but left the beast where it lay, moving to see what unwelcome being waited outside the safety of his door.

"What?" the door opened merely an inch, and the visitor stood on her toes, peering through the door.

"Was that you?" she asked softly. "I heard the music on the way home; it was lovely!"

Jefferson paused, staring at the former princess in wonder, seeing the lives of Ashley and Cinderella meld into one gigantic mess before his eyes.

"No." he said sternly, before slamming the door in the young woman's face.

He leapt back into his palace of threads, swinging around the banner rail and moving swiftly upstairs, a smile large and giddy erupting on his face. Ah, the joys! The joys of playing music and being heard!

He stopped, abruptly, one foot toeing the doorway where is collection of beauties lay.

"I think I've gone mad." He whispered to himself, caressing the wooden handles and silver tuners that sat so reverently before him.

The screaming guitar licks that filled the air surrounding the manner served only to confirm both his and Miss Ashley's assumptions:

The man may be insane, but he could create music the gods would forever rival.


	18. Chapter 18

The map spread out before him like a wave in his mind, revealing the continents of the world. He felt a smile grace his lips as he took it all in, eyes closed in deep concentration, noting the little red dots that spattered through his mind, marking what territory he had metaphorically conquered. All the places he had journeyed, now marked merely by thought, representing all that he was, and all that he had been.

Rio de Janeiro was splattered in pinks and greens and violets, in his memory. The late nights spent on the roofs in the ghettos, drinking and laughing while he watched the moon dance in the sky. That monstrous week, Carnival, of which he truly remembered little, but those he had accompanied told him had been sheer magic, dusted with glitter and lights.

The little island of St. Lucia, nearly forgotten in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, which had served as his hideaway for a short time. He remembered days spent swimming in coconut rum and the languid waters that surrounded his home away from home.

Those disgustingly frozen weeks spent in Moscow, freezing his ass off in the snow and chasing after a dream, a woman who came and danced in the night that he soon found to be a mere illusion of his watery mind.

Looking back on his time, he found that he had been inebriate for most of it. What a waste.

But now, here he sat. In this little, insignificant, unmajestic waste of space inhabitants referred to as Storybrooke. There was nothing remarkable about it, if one discounted the fantastical creatures who called it home.

The fishing wharfs were, thus far, silent, as the sun rose above the water. The engine of the ancient boat sputtered to life, and August guided it into the water, placing his fish pole and tackle box in the bow. The Thais had taught him to deep sea fish, if he recalled the adventure correctly, and he found it calmed his restless spirit in the days after Emma broke the curse.

The rickety old boat had become his sanctuary, in the time he was alone after the curse. His magical past had caught up with him, or so it seemed, and while it seemed now he remained condemned to this disgustingly bland place, these little trips calmed his nerves.

The whole 'being-made-of-wood' bit had caused him some problems at first, but he had learned to deal. He had to, really. And as a bonus, wood floated, saving him the trouble of splashing around like a fool if he fell out of the boat.

Which he had, more than once.

The water of the pseudo-Lake Nostos, a poor imitation at best, remained calm in the wake of his smaller boat. August baited his hook, (funny, he figured the old pirate would like that line), and let it sink into the still waters, and began his wait.

It was rare he caught anything, to be honest, but that mattered not at all. This was his time, alone in the world, where he didn't feel quite so lonely.

It was out in this middle of nowhere that he felt most at peace.

XXX

_**A/N….Hi. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I hope you enjoyed that bit, August and his explorations and his fishing and nonsense and I'm so sorry for disappearing…I can't promise I won't do it again, but I can try not to…*hides behind Oakenshield* **_

_**Oh, and as a side note...please prompt me. Please. Pretty, pretty please, with all the leather clad men of the Enchanted Forest on top... (ha.) **_


End file.
